



^s^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap Copyright No 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Cop<ncj[GHxxi>, leoo, srr xhk Adtbok. 



VERSES 



By 3VIARY KLA-THERHSTE CLARK. 



Imo^ 



ONE COPV =!eO«-lVED, 

[Library of Couflr.JMS 



SECOND COPY 






Register Press, Sandusky, O. 



THE ROMANY GIRL. 

I saw her once, a year ago, and still 
she flitF 

Across my fancy like a gilded butter- 
fly 

Flits acro33 the flower-scented air of 
summer, 

With just such graceful abandon. 

I see her yet, her long brown curls, 
wherein the light and shadow 

Strove for mastery. Her eyes (I can't 
describe their color) but they 
shone 

Like planets in a winter heaven. 

And flashed from gray to black in 
merriment or anger. 

Her cheeks were soft carnations and 
the laughter lived on her sweet 
lips. 

Her short, gypsy gown, gay and fan- 
tastic 

With rows on rows of bright beads on 
her neck and hair. 

Short sleeves revealing brown and 
dimpled arms. 

She looked like some quaint picture of 
an olden time, awakened to life. 



I saw her once. She begged to tell my 

fortune, 
"A silver piece to cross your palm," 

she pleaded, 
I humored her. Her brown hand 

touched my own, 
And with a laughing, sidelong glance 

from her sweet luminous eyes, 
Her lips' low music broke the silence. 
"You love!" I smiled. "Most people 

do," 1 said, 
"You are loved!" "Is it so?" I asked. 
"You do not love," she said, "you are 

not loved," 
She gazed into my eyes, a transient 

sadness in her own. 
"How, foolish maid," I cried, "How 

can I love and not love, 
"How can I be loved and not be loved? 
"Away, thou art a pretty elf, but thy 

mission does not lie 
"In telling fortunes." "Ah!" a scorn- 
ful smile played on her lips. 
"You are unwise, not I. You love, yet 

he you love does not love you, 
"You a.re loved, yet he who loves you 

you despise!" 
And having thus explained, she laugh- 
ing danced away. 



Leaving a sunbeam in her train. 

Yet oft she flits across my fancy in her 
quaint, gypsy gown, 

With long brown curls and gray side- 
glancing eyes, 

And cheeks carnation-hued. I feel her 
brown hand on my own again, 

And hear her lips, curved with sweet 
merriment, 

Pronounce my destiny, that strange 
and fateful contradiction, 

"You love, you are loved, you do not 
love, you are not loved." 



A NOCTURNE FROM CHOPIN. 

Alone in the silence, grey-faced and 

wan 
Sat a young girl. Her vows to be a 

bride of heaven, 
But taken yesterday. A tightness in 
her throat, an iciness about her 

heart. 
In her mind's eye, she sees the j^'oung 

companions of her former life 
Circling in a graceful dance, care-free, 

light-hearted. 
And one whose eyes had ever sought 

her own with favor, 
Treads the glorious measure, oh cruel- 

est pang of all, 
With one as fair, as graceful as she 

was in the old days. 
So soon she is forgotten. A low sigh 

escaped her pallid lips. 
Straight from her anguished heart. A 

longing for the world so early 

quitted, 
A wild regret, a sense of bartered lib- 
erty for what? 
Hark! Ah! across the evening steals 

the pealing of the organ. 



Grand and majestic are those golden 

chords of some heaven-inspired 

anthem. 
And angels' voices wonderful and 

sweet, breathe on her spirit bid- 
ding her rejoice. 
Her face grew rapt. Her recent wild 

regret has fled. 
With bended knee and clasped hands 

in prayer, 
She breathes, " 'Tis better so. My 

Father blot out these dreams 

that tempt, 
Tear from my heart these thoughts and 

sinful ties 
That link me to the world without. The 

ties that keep me 
From Thyself and Heaven." 



A IITTLE WHILE. 

A little While— 
And springtime's silver rain 
Will plash o'er hill and plain, 
Its murmurs, all in vain, 
I shall not hear. 

A little while — 
And summer's varied bloom 
Will breathe its sweet perfume, 
And brighten old earth's gloom. 
I shall not see. 

A little while — 
And autumn's gold and red 
Will fall above my head, 
And form a gorgeous spread. 
I shall not know. 

A little while— 
The smiling earth is chill; 
Snow whitens yonder hill; 
The grave is dark and stiii 
Wherein I lie. 



THE TEST. 

While the sunshine of hope floods your 

path — 
And the blossoms of success fall one 

by one to crown you; 
And while your life is bright and 

shadowless, 
And fair and cloudless as a summer 

day; 
While every one bows low before your 

slightest wish, 
I do not blame you now that you 

forget. 

But, oh remember, when the bleak 

blasts of December 
Destroy the rose that waxed so fair in 

June; — 
And one by one the friends who fol- 
lowed you to fortune 
Avert their faces and with chilly air, 

forget they ever knew you; 
Remember this, — that I who watched 

you from afar, 
As one might watch by night some 

distant favourite star. 
Will then, my friendship prove, forget 

it nt)t. 



TO A HAPPY ONE. 

You say she had no mission, 

Save it was to seek the pleasures of 
existence, 

A mere butterfly that sipped the sweets 
from flowers. 

She loved the dance and music and all 
gayety. 

And the fragrance of soft, sweet sum- 
mer days. 

It was her mission to amuse. 

And for this she required to be amus- 
ed. 

A sorry mission say you! No! 

Why blame her if she sought the sun- 
shine? 

Let whoe'er will, seek darkness, 
shadows, sorrow. 

'Twas not for her. Here was a maid 
who found Life's Fairyland. 

She was not very deep nor very wise. 

But like some shallow brook prattling 
joyously along its little way, 

Making the land gladder for its pres- 
ence. 

A little brook not very deep 



But crystal clear, reflecting the calm 

blue of the heaven 
In its happy heart. 
She was not very wise but she was 

happy; 
She never spoke a word of wrong 

'gainst any one, 
She sang her little songs with gay 

light-heartedness. 
And scattered sunshine all along her 

path. 
I think of her on these clear, sunny 

days, 
(She loved them so, of old.) 
Transplanted to God's garden in the 

springtime of her youth. 
From life of happiness to life of happi- 
ness, — 
Eternity of joy. Oh, blessed fate! 



-:y^'i\^ 



THE IDEAL, 

While the calm world glittered in the 
sunset glow, 
Fair beauty stood upon a western 
hill; 
Her admirers thronged the deep, wide 
vale below — 
And each one gazing felt his pulses 
thrill. 

In her fair face each saw his own 
ideal — 
Enraptured all stood there, a longing 
band; 
With yearning arms outstretched, each 
one doth feel 
A spell fall o'er him from the siren's 
wand. 

Cries one, "Her eyes are dark and deep 
as night, 
"Yet shine and sparkle with love's 
ardent fire; 
"Her hair is jet. A smile of dazzling 
light 
"Beams from her face and doth my 
heart inspire." 



" 'Tis not so. Her eyes are heaven's 
own azure, 
"The sunbeams bright dance in her 
curls of gold; 
"Her elfin heart Rnows naught but joy 
and pleasure, 
"Her lips so full and red, all sweet- 
ness hold." 

"Nay. She's tall and queenly with a 
goddess' air, 
"Her face like chiseled marble, calm, 
serene; 
"Her grey eyes like twin pools of 
crystal are, 
"My own ideal. She is of noblest 
mien." 

And each one saw a different vision 
As he raised his eyes to Beauty fair, 

Unconscious his ideal was but illusion 
Each raved of Beauty's eyes and lips 
and hair. 

And thus it ever is. In eacii one's heart 

There is a loved ideal enshrined there, 

Whose image no rude hand can tear 

apart, 

Engraved deep on the soul, a picture 

fair. 



THE BEST OF THREE. 
I, 

From Shadowland they came, the 
wraith-like three, 

With present, past and future mystery. 

The first spoke through the incensed 
air, 

"I am What-Is. Am I not fair? 

"A cup of joy is at thy lips, 

"Drink deep, behold care's shadow 
slips 

"Away like dew before the sun. 

"Drink deep, thy life is scarce be- 
gun. 

"All, all is thine, the long sweet hours 

"Of night soft with its starry flow- 
ers." 

n. 

And then one more ethereal than the 
first 

Glided forth and from her lips in soft- 
ness burst 

These gentle words of hope and peace: 

"What-Shall-Be when What-Is shall 
cease, 

"1 am. Behold thy heart's wounds 
healed, 



"And far beyond thou seest revealed 
"The visions of a fairer earth. 
"Lift up thine eyes, behold the worth 
"Of What-Shall-Be and dry thy tears. 
"Thy hopes look bright across the 
years." 

III. 

The third was A^oiceless but with skil- 
ful hand, 

She drew a picture of a charmed land. 

I saw June roses on a cottage wall, 

I heard a bird's song far away and 
low, 

I saw the western sky with amber all 
aglow. 

Across the crystal bay I saw a silent 
sail. 

IV. 

Oh, Past, what joys lie locked within 

thy breast. 
Oh, days that were, I love, I love you 

best, 
Skies in days that are, in days that 

still may be, 
May boast cerulean just as bright, 
But such as those that gave me most 

delight 
Come not again. 



THE ROGUE UNMASKED. 

O, roguish elf! perchance you think, 
Because you held my heart in thrall 

With grasp of iron, till on the brink 

Of sad despair I gave you all — 

You can again. 

Had not the fairy, wise good-sense, 
Come to my aid with timely warn- 
ing, 
Methinks my only recompense 
For loving you v.'ould be dread scorn- 
ing. 

I knov/ it well. 

She whispered that you were a rogue, 
And lovers sought but to forsake 
them ; 
And that a scheme with you in vogue 
V/as to win hearts and then to break 
them 

For cruel sport. 

And so I'm steeled 'gainst you. brown 
eyes, 
My heart of old with sorrow rent — 
A sadder heart and now more wise 
Knows all too well your blandish- 
ment, 

O roguish eyes. 



THE PASSING OF THE YEAR. 

I mourn thy passing, dear old year; 
Thou hast brought me my share of 
happiness, 
And so kindly mingled gay with drear 
That I'll hold thy mem'ry in tender- 
ness. 

Tho' oft the rarest joys were spilled 
Along the hills and vales of life, 

Full many a dream was unfulfilled, 
Unconquered many a petty strife. 

But still, a kiiid farewell, old year; 

The end has come of thy brief reign, 
The new year seems so wondrous fair. 

We would not have thee back again. 

Now, v/hilf^ into the misty past 
Thy feeble, tott'ring steps recede, 

The new year, all alive with hope, 
Doth promise to fulfill our need. 

The new year, who with care-free 
smile, 

Unvtiis a host of glowing dreams, 
(rod grant the future be as bright. 

Joyous, and happ}'' as it seems. 



THE CITY OF THE DEAD. 

'Tis Sabbath day, A heavenly calm- 
ness falls on all. 
As the silent streets of the city white 
we tread; 
Fair blossoms and evergreens so 
straight and tall,- 
Enrich and beautify the city of the 
dead. 

Fair and beautiful is this city, silent, 
white, 
And all who dwell here are at peace, 
at rest. 
For o'er their dreamless sleep ne'er 
comes a blight. 
The city holds a restfulness most 
blest. 

The sun gilds the slabs above the 
sleepers' heads. 
With burning gold, each time-worn 
letter leaves, 
The grass its cheerful greenness o'er 
them spreads 
And leaves and flowers aid to deck 
their graves. 



The wind murmuring thro' the mourn- 
ful pines 
Chants o'er all a requiem sweet and 
low, 
Unheeding the sleepers in those silent 
lines 
Slumber on in rest so calm, unruffled 
in its flow. 

Each one reposing on mother earth's 
kind breast, 
She holds in loving, close embrace. 
Impartially her children are caressed, 
And each one has an equal resting 
place. 

Is there a fairer, lovelier spot, 
Where the weary, way-worn feet 
may tread, 

Than in God's consecrated lot. 
This fair white city of the dead? 



•^#¥x?^ 



TREASURES. 

Among the treasures I prize 

Is a dainty box of blue, 
Hidden away from prying eyes 

With its keepsakes dear though few. 

I prize it not for the value 
Of the treasures 'neath the lid; 

But deep in the heart are the mem'ries 
Of those associations hid. 

There's a sprig of yellow golden-rod. 

Plucked on a summer day, 
When by the waters of Erie 

We whiled the hours away. 

There's a bunch of blue forgetmenots 

In memory of a fete, 
Where each lass held her laddie 

In a charming tete-a-tete. 

There's a little faded picture, 
Once cherished more than all; 

But a summer dream has perished 
With the flowers in the fall. 

A knot of sky-blue ribbon 

That once bound locks of gold 

Lies near a bunch of violets 
Once purple, now faded and old. 



Notes, photos, letters, poems, 

Hidden away from light 
Recall to me the visions 

Of many a past delight. 

And these are the beloved treasures 
I place under lock and key — 

Though worthless indeed to others, . 
They are more than precious to me. 



THE PAST. 

On the moldering walls of time's misty 
hall, 
Hang the portraits of the years; 
And some are replete with joys most 
sweet — 
And some are traced in tears. 

Let's steal away from the present 
day, 
And glide down the aisles of the 
past; 
And youth's ardor renew as old years 
we view 
Years — Whose burdens we've from 
us cast. 

O to recall from the past's guarded 
hall, 
The pleasures and hopes that are 
dead; 
Each friend's stilled tongue with the 
songs it sung, 
The treasured words that were said. 



We may weep in vain but ne'er again 
May we taste the delights that are 
past; 
For on that crumbling wall in time's 
misty hall — 
The years hold them with fetters 
fast. 

Then enjoy while you may each fleet- 
ing day, 
For all too soon cometh sorrow; 
For joys of yesterday are far, far away, 
And uncertain are those of tomor- 
row. 



THE COMING OF DEATH. 

I hear thy step, oh Death, across the 
winter's snow, 

In these fierce storms that stride so 
wildly pitiless; 

I feel thy chilly breath upon this icy 
air, 

I hear thy ceaseless tapping on my 
window pane. 

AVonldst honor me. oh wierd and sober 
messenger 

Of joy and peace to come in that here- 
after fair? 

I do not fear thee as a grim, harsh 

visitor, 
But watch and bless thy coming with 

a gladdened heart. 
For Disappointment's poison thou dost 

ever bear 
An antidote, and balm for spirits brok- 
en down. 
Healing unhappiness most gently and 

surely, 
Drawing Oblivion's curtain o'er all 

life's woes 
By one long, wakeless sleep untroubled 

by a dream. 



LOST ILLUSIONS. 

I stood upon the shadowy bridge, 
That spans the Present and the Past, — 
And ever present Memory with her 

many voices 
Stood by my side. Far o'er the Sea of 

By-Gone-Years 
Floated a phantom ship, the Might- 

Have-Been. 
From out ity shadowy decks peeped 

childish faces. 
With laughing eyes and lips like rosy 

flowers, 
And curls of nut-brown hair. 
My eyes grew bright v/ith e'en these 

phantom joys, — 
Until a mist of bitterness obscured my 

view. 
Then mocking Memory who had 

brought this vision back, 
Recalled with mournful vividness each 

past hope bitter-sweet. 
Unrolled the barren present and the 

vague future's stretch of years, 
And murmured with a scornful, mad- 
dening laugh, 
"Lost opportunities and vain, vain 

dreams." 



FROM DAWN TO DAWN. 

1 waited for you, dear, that livelong 

day, 
From e'en the earliest hour of morn- 
ing's dawn, 
When eastern skies are bathed in coral 

mist, 
And gentle winds are rocking dream- 
ing flowers. 

The morn sped on to noon and after- 
noon, 

And the sun, aweary, rested in the 
west; 

I watched the twilight shades fall 
softly 

"While gleaming worlds lit up the sap- 
phire heaven. 

1 waited for you, dear, that livelong 

day. 
Hopeful, expectant, until a shade of 

doubt. 
Like some pale ghost crept 'cross my 

path that eve 
And disappointment haunted all my 

dreams. 



L did not look for you the coming day, 
Nor noticed that the heaven was still 

more fair, 
The south wind bore a message from 

a rose, 
And Nature's choir sang loud for joy, 

that day you came! 



''^^^W^ 



CUPID'S LAMENT. 



A pretty toy. I'm sorry it is broken, 

Too roughly handled was the fair, 
frail token. 

Why can't you stupid mortals under- 
stand 

The light strings snap beneath an un- 
skilled hand. 

A master's touch can waken sweetest 
melody, 

Light as the winds that sweep a sum- 
mer sea. 

This fairy instrument as free as air, — 

Its tones so silvery, and so pure, so 
rare, 

In your remorseless fingers shattered 
lies, 

A mere ghost of a one-time lovely prize. 

II. 

Indeed, a sorry thing has come to pass; 
Hereafter, I shall label "hearts" as 
"glass," 



Or else I shall grow old and hoary 
Prom close work in my labratory; 
Where hearts with greatest care are 

mended, 
And now I think my speech is ended. 
I meet with great appreciation, 
And should you desire a consultation. 
For any ailment of the heart 
I ply my fascinating art. 
In Lover's Lane you'll plainly see 
My sign hung out — Cupid, M. D. 



WE— SUSIE AND BESS AND MAY. 

I. 

Do you remember our childhood's 
springtime? 
Life was one long summer day; 
Forever together, in all kinds of 
weather, 
We — Susie and Bess and May. 

11. 

When Summer was painting the petals 
red, 
In the beds where poppies grew; 
'Twas then we carried the doll to be 
buried, 
We — Bessie and May and Sue. 

III. 

Gaily attired as wee women we walked. 
Proudly in mother's long dress; 

By burdock leaves shaded we gaily 
paraded, 
We — Susie and May and Bess. 



IV. 



Do you remember one eve just at dusk, 

To frighten people away; 
We hung out on a post a big white 
paper ghost, 

We — Susie and Bess and May. 

V. 

Oh, could we return for only a day 
To the childish joys we knew; 

But the years have flown, we are wo- 
men grown. 
We — Bessie and May and Sue. 



"OVER THE MOUNTAINS." 

Perhaps some day the tangled chain 

of destiny- 
Will be unraveled. And we shall see 
the good 

C*f every little pain that burned the 
heart. 

Then shall we understand the deeper 
sorrows, 

Their chastening influence and their 
purifying powers. 

Some day, grieve not. it surely will 
come right. 

Meanwhile let all things take their 
course, 

Enjoy the bits of gold that dot the 
gray, 

Let your spirit gaze beyond the moun- 
tains of despair 

To the shining vales of infinite seren- 
ity. 



TO J. S. 

We met but once yet when sleep 

flings 
About me her soft, languid wings, 
And wafts me to the realm of dreams, 
We keep trysts there, or so it seems. 

Tho' like an ocean, barriers deep 

Our paths apart forever keep; 

Like some sweet harp with silver 

strings 
That brings back half-remembered 

things; 
And when are hushed the thrilling 

strains, 
'ine music in the heart remains. 

So your voice in tones kind and low 
Brought back the hopes of long ago, 
Awakened half-remembered things 
And struck my soul's long untouched 
strings. 

We met but once yet I am glad 
That this one pleasure I have had; 
Across the barriers your kind voice 
Speaks to my soul and I rejoice; 
Oft, oft again I live it seems 
That one sweet meeting in my dreams. 



ADVICE TO AND . 

I. 

Neither would speak tho' their proud 
hearts are breaking — 
Each thinks the other one is more 
to blame; 
Calmly they meet the world with their 
hearts aching, 
Never to mention the other one's 
name. 



II. 



Feigning calmness so well and smil- 
ing so bravely, 
Tumultuous feelings rage in his 
breast; 
For she's standing there responding so 
naively 
To some one beside her with gayest 
jest. 

III. 

He thinks she is heartless yet one tear 
on her lashes. 
Will bring bim again to the place at 
ber feet, — 



One kind word from him and she'll 
grant him forgiveness 
And smile through her tears with a 
joy most complete. 

IV. 

So lovers, why quarrel? Too short is 

this life, 
To waste it forgiving, to waste it in 

strife. 



FAREWELL, SUMMER. 

Bright summer, the loveliest child of 

the year, 
Is dying. Oh, is there a sigh, or a tear, 
A pining for skies that are bluer, more 

clear, 
A longing for flowers now withered 

and sere? 

Yet lovely e'en dying, fair Summer, art 

thou; 
Autumn scatters gay leaves upon thy 

pale brow; 
The birds sing thy death-song so 

mournful and low. 
More sweetly than ever they sing their 

songs now. 

With thy death, oh Summer, earth's 

fairest things die. 
Thy bier is heaped up with hopes dead 

and gone by, 
And all on thy grave drop some token 

or sigh 
For glad, happy hours that so swiftly 

did fly. 



Adieu, then, sweet Summer; we love 

thee so well 
It pains us most deeply to bid thee 

farewell, 
Tho' Autumn, with many a mystical 

spell, 
Doth strive now to cheer us, our fears 

to dispell, 
We would Mistress Summer could e'er 

with us dwell! 



^^m^i^ 



IF YOU WERE HERE. 



It >cu wor«? with me, here tonight, 
Just you and I together, dear, 

My soul would sing in wild delight. 
The clouds about my path would 
clear. 

II. 

If you were with me here, tonight, 
Just you and I, dear, hand in hand, 

1 ne old sweet dreams would rise again 
And waft us back to Fairyland. 

III. 

If you were with me here, tonight, 
Just you and I. No tears nor sighs, 

Nor sad regrets, nor shadow, dear, 
Would mar our earthly Paradise. 

IV. 

And everything I would forgive; 

I wonder do you quite forget? 
The haunting music of a song. 

The song you sang when first we 
met, 



Is ling'ring still. We were such 
friends. 

For one short hour of past delight, 
I would exchange all these dull days, 

And have you here again, tonight. 



-yJ^'fN?^ 



THE LITTLE BROWN MAID. 

Little brown maid in the open field, 
Side by side with your brothers 
there, 
The hoe is the scepter that you wield, 
Your only crown is your wind-blown 
hair. 

Upon your cheek is the sun god's kiss. 

Your sturdy hands are hard and 

brown. 

And in your heart the unruffled bliss. 

That only a little brown maid could 

own. 

Day after day with your brothers 
there 
Till the afternoon's last rays fade, 
Working and singing with care-free 
air, 
I envy you, little brown maid. 



NOBILITY. 

To be truly noble, one must have a 

god-like mind; 
One far above the common kind, 
Which revels in low deeds. 

To be noble, one need not be a king 

or prince; 
The loveliest blossoms of fairest, 

brighest tints, 
Spring from brown seeds. 

Aim high; but try thy wings. 
Soar far above all common things, 
Where e'er thy noble nature leads. 

Better a sober casket, it's gem's bright 

radiance flaunting, 
Than one elaborate, with the jewel 

wanting. 
'Tis likewise with man. 

He may be humble, poor and lowly. 
Yet rich in soul most pure and holy. 
Thus may God plan. 



LADY PEARL. 



I. 



My fair lady Pearl, a most charming 
girl, 
Entertained an admirer one eve, 
Poor stammering Tim, (I feel sorry for 
Mm), 
Could scarce one complete sentence 
weave. 

IL 

Completely enchanted, he ardently 
wanted 
To win for his wife this fair girl, 
Vv'^ith laborious skill, he commenced, 
"W-w-will — ," 
He stopped, his brain in a whirl. 

in. 

My lady Pearl, fair, her tact was most 
rare, 
She thought she would give Tim her 
aid, — 
"Of course, it is Will, you're a guesser 
of skill," 
Said the sweet yet mistaken young 
maid. 



IV. 

'Will and I wed in June, — What, going 
so soon? 
"Indeed, 'twas a very short call. 
'Good night!" closing the door, as she 
smiled, "What a bore! 
"I've cut short one proposal, that's 
all." 



i^ 



A SOMETIME FAIRY TALE. 
I. 

Somewhere, somewhere, my little 

maid. 
There waits in this wide world for 

you, 
A fairy prince with courtly grace — 
With loyal heart, steadfast and true. 
I know not whence he'll come, my 

dear, 
Perhaps from East, perhaps from West, 
From Northern land or Southern clime, 
I only know he'll love you best. 

II. 

Perhaps he'll come to you in state, 
With rolling drums and flags unfurled; 
And kneeling at your feet will say, — 
"I love you best in all the world!" 
He may come as a modern knight. 
Or in some strange, grotesque dis- 
guise. 
But by this mark you'll know him, 

dear, 
The love light shining in his eyes. 



III. 



B'U whether knight of modern times, 
Or fairy prince of courtly mien; 
He'll bear you off to his own realm. 
Where you shall reign as fairy queen. 
I see the wonder in your eyes — 
But little maid, it will come true. 
And from somewhere, some future 

time, 
A fairy prince will come for you. 



A FAIRY REVEL. 

I. 

Oh, Mab is the fairy queen, 

Her hair's like the sunbeam's sheen, 

Her airiest gown 

Is of silk thistledown. 

On her head is a dew drop crown. 

II. 

When the moon shines o'er the hill 
And the meadow's cool and still; 
Then by her royal will, 
The fairies have a chance 
To frolic and lightly dance 
Under the silver beams. 
While here and there are gleams 
Where the fireflies flit and prance. 

III. 

And merrily o'er the hill 
The crickets pipe so shrill. 
And the frogs croak in the lake 
And the beetles are awake, 
For every one, large and small. 
That lives in the queen's broad hall, 
Can come to her royal ball 
Held under the poplars tall. 



IV. 

Bui when the red dawn breaks 
Each one then betakes 
Himself to his rest 
On some fair flower's breast, 
And all's once more still. 
On meadow and hill. 



LIFE AND DEATH. 

Our Life is Death, we living, die each 

day, 
As cherished hopes, ambitions flee 

away. 

Yet Death is Life, we dj'ing, pass from 

strife, 
Death is the gate that leads from Life 

to Life. 



CHARITY. 

To rejoice with all in their successes. 
To comfort them in their defeats, 
To soothe them in sadness, 
And to be glad in their gladness, 
To forgive their shortcomings 
As we hope to be forgiven. 
To pray for their welfare forever. 
This — Charity most blessed virtue of 
mankind. 



SUNSET, JANUARY 1, 1900. 

I saw the first day of the glad New 

Year 
Die slowly while her life-blood dyed 

the west 
In one great scarlet gash. 
The evening hovered o'er her pityingly, 
And stooping, with a fleecy cloud 
Did strive to staunch the dark red 

flow, 
Till crimson crept upon its stainless 

white. 
Far fairer now the dying day than in 

her noon-tide triumph. 
As beautiful as when flushed with 

hope. 
And full of promise, she peeped above 

the eastern hills. 

Tho' conquered like a queen she dies, 
The jeweled robes of night her cere- 
ments. 
And at her bier with brilliant taper 
Doth watch the beauteous Venus. 



OCTOBER. 

Now, Summer old, by gay attire doth 

feign 
The youthfulness she felt in June; 
Tho' ev'ry breeze doth whisper that 

her reign 
Is o'er and that she passeth soon. 
Her wreath of golden-rod, her gown 

of royal aster, 
While ever and anon, the brilliant 

leaves fall faster — 

Strewing her path with rubies and 

with gold. 
With dark dream-haunted eyes she 

goes 
To her last festival while we behold 

Far in the distance wraiths of snows. 
Winter's ghosts. Grieving she goes, 

knowing we hold her dear. 
Who crowned her queen of seasons 

and darling of the year. 



OCTOBER. 

Farewell, farewell, 
The summer is dying, 
The low winds are sighing, 
The birds south are flying. 
Farewell, farewell. 

i-arewell, farewell, 

The red west is burning, 

Tne green leaves are turning. 

And young hearts are yearning 

For joys that are past. 

Farewell, farewell, 
The bees have ceased humming, 
The night season's coming. 
The crickets are thrumming 
Their instruments shrill. 



"YOU TAUGHT ME LOVE." 

You taught me love and yet you never 
knew 

Its yearning, hopes, the sorrow of de- 
feat; 

With cold, calm eyes you taught the 
lesson sweet, 

And eagerly I grasped it all from you. 

You taught me love, tho' of it you 

knew naught. 
With unmoved heart, you calmly went 

your way; 
Your lesson — I'll remember it for aye. 
For one who knew it not, how well you 

taught. 



BEYOND. 

Beyond the East's gate golden, 

Beyond the sunset's rose mist, 
Beyond the blue dome olden. 

Silent and star-kissed. 

Beyond the South's soft languor. 

And its tropical perfume. 
Beyond the North gale's anger 
And ice-jeweled plume. 

Beyond, oh Peace, thou lieth 

In the Islands of the Blest, 
And souls, world-weary crieth 
For thee and rest. 



THE HEART OF A MAID. 

"Forget thee? Nay, that I will not; 
I love for aye, not for a day!" 
He boasted thus and then — forgot. 

Another came with noble face; 
His words rang true, "I love but you!" 
He sought her hand with knightly 
grace. 

She scorned him, said she loved him 

not. 
And mourned the other who forgot. 



GALLANTRY. 

She tried to entangle him in a net. 
As she tore to pieces a violet. 
With an arch and mischievous smile; 
"Oh, Sir Gallant," she cried with 

drooping eyes, 
"I have often heard you are wondrous 

wise, 
"I would give your wisdom trial. 

"In this I would have your opinion, 

pray, 
"What color of eyes are the prettiest? 

Say." 
But the youth was also clever, 
Another perhaps might have lost his 

head, 
"Why, the color of yours!" he simply 

said, 
And won her favor forever. 



THE UNATTAINABLE. 

On the rocky cliff there blooms a 
flower, 
No more endowed with beauty's 
power 
Than the one that unfolds at our very 
feet; 
But the longing heart counts it far 
more sweet, 
Because it lies beyond our reach. 

The unattainable each one doth crave, 
From early youth till he sinks in the 
grave. 
What eludes the grasp is the heart's 
desire; 
There's an insatiable longing for 
something higher, 
For something beyond our reach. 



AWAKENING. 

All those old, bright dreams are end- 
ed— 
In the past were strangely blended 
Wild delusions, foolish fancies; 
And the wraiths of gay romances; 
These within my brain oft flitted, 
Yet they never have been fitted 
Into shape material. 

How I dread to say them farewell, 
They are part of me I know well. 
Wound around my inmost being; 
Would that what I have been seeing 
In these dreams so optimistic 
Dreams so v/ierd, so strange, so mys- 
tic. 
Might become reality. 

Hush thou dreamer! Tho' the part- 
ing 
With them will cause sorrow's smart- 
ing 
On thy heart like fiery flame, — 
Yet still resign to them all claim; 
Thrust away with firm decision 
Dreams of glories nigh Elysian, 
Wake and strive to make them real. 



A SPRING DAY. 

The tufted titmouse cocked its head, 
Lightly from bush to tree it sped, 

Its bold black eyes knew naught of 

fear, 
Nor seemed to care that we were near. 

Tne blue jay called in varied strain, 
A chipping sparrow trilled again, 

A vesper sparrow's twittering 
Was haunted with the dreams of 
spring. 

The meadow lark with flute-like note, 
A redbird with a tuneful throat, 

The cooing of a mourning dove. 
All rang around us and above. 

For this was God's and Nature's choir, 
Their temple's dome, the sky's sap- 
phire. 

Oh, what a place to live and dream, 
Right here beside this silver stream. 

The while the birds these balmy days 
Are chanting loud their Maker's praise. 



HEIRS OF THE WORLD. 

The one God made us ^,11, yet it passes 
our poor understanding, 

Why some are fashioned of the fair- 
est mold, 

Ii'lawless in body yet with soul imper- 
fect; 

Why some great souls are chained 
down in prisons of flesh, 

Beating against the barriers as caged 
birds beat against the wires; 

Why there are those whose heritage 
throughout the long, long years, 

Has been but sin. 

Fettered by circumstances, enchained 
by ordinary things. 

Forever bound to earth, they have not 
caught 

One glimpse of heaven. 

Why are these things? In some dim 
way we comprehend. 

It is man's fault, his selfishness, his 
carelessness, 

The garnered sins of ages. 



AT THE CROSSWAY. 

A slight pause at the crossing of the 

ways 

Of utter disregard and friendliness; 

A little wonder at the tangled maze, 

That doubt conjured with sinister 

success. 

A hasty word that nothing can recall; 
A few tears shed in solemn loneli- 
ness ; 
Repentance and a wild impulse to fall 
At some one's feet and make a fit 
redress. 

A heartache healed at last by pity's 
balm, 
While sweet forgiveness all the 
trouble ends; 
A drifting back to friendship's even 
calm, 
And tearful gladness that we still 
are friends. 



MY PRETTY IMOGENS. 

To L— . 
Oh, surely you have seen 
My pretty Imogene, 
Whose eyes and lips recall the sum- 
mer flowers; 
A maid both kind and good, 
A rose of womanhood, 
With whom I spend the happiest of 
hours. 

Were I king, she'd be queen, 

My pretty Imogene, 
I never knew a maid more fair and 
clever; 

Well might she wear a crown 

Upon her tresses brown. 
In a cottage we'll be happy forever. 



HOPE AND MEMORY. 

Hope endeth now — but Memory 

Beginneth here, 
Hope frail as an anemone — 

But yet to me so very dear. 

You will forget — but Memory 

With me shall stay; 
And even through eternity, 

A precious thing — will last alway. 

I will remember till I die, 

And after then; 
Nor shall escape by lips one sigh 

For any day of past aa-ain. 

I would not have the slightest grief 

E"er shadow you; 
I glory in the sweet belief — 

That tho' unwise, my love was true. 



UNSATISFIED. 

'Tis not for souls to be content, this 
lesson heed — 

Tue seed is not content to be a lowly 
seed, 

But strives until it bursts in perfect 
bloom 

And scatters o'er the world its sweet 
perfume. 

How be content when within, a yearn- 
ing, longing soul 

Beats on unsatisfied till it reach per- 
fection's goal. 



PATE. 

Sometimes common souls borne up by- 
chance and fortune 

Do step into the place meant for the 
wise. 

Genius and worth oft struggle on un- 
known. 

And dying, are forgotten. 

Alas! for them who waste their ad- 
miration on mere polished 
quartz. 

Passing by the true and uncut gem, 

Mistaking the one for the other. 



TO . 

She is a woman, often a mystery, 

Imprudent and often indiscreet. 

A harshness 'gainst her rises in your 

heart 
Until she melts it with one look from 

her deep eyes. 
Ottimes her dignity and her sweet 

penitencer 
Win your approval till in those wells 

of mystery 
You descrie a merriness that quite be- 
lies her majesty of mien. 
Mysterious eyes that mirror all her 

thoughts — 
No matter what her actions. 
Eyes one moment causing tears. 
Then moving one to laughter. 
A woman's eyes. Who can explain 

their mysteries? 



CONTENT. 

A merry song I heard one morn. 
A waif passed by all ragged, torn, 
Tho' poverty her lot from birth, 
She wore a gem of priceless worth. 

A rich man rode proud, haughty, 

great, 
Discontent in his high estate; 
Tho' gold and countless lands were his, 
One jewel lacked for happiness. 

I seemed to hear the livelong day. 
The waif's gay laugh and cheery lay, 
And I thoughtfully mused when day 

was spent, 
What a rare, sweet gem is the pearl 

content. 



INABILITY. 

Hither, sweet muse, Inspiration, 
Though my efforts are in vain; 

Fill my lonely meditation, 
With some rare immortal strain. 

Brightest fancies thou canst kindle, 
All aglow with heaven born flame. 

Mine to merest sparks do dwindle. 
Lines are faulty, rhyme is lame. 

Ah, though often you should show 
me 

Lofty, noble peaks of song, 
Powerless am I to reach them, 

I must dwell the vales among. 



AS JAMIE PASSES BY. 

"With beating heart, each day I wait, 

And ever-watchful eye, 
A-standing at the garden gate 

As Jamie passes by. 

Sometimes I whisper in my heart, 

"Oh, foolish, foolish lass, 
"What satisfaction can there be, 

"In watching Jamie pass?" 

Unanswered still the question is, 

I can not tell you why, 
I only know it makes me glad 

When Jamie passes by. 

But all unconscious that I watch, 

Unconscious that I sigh, 
A-whistling loud and merrily, 

So Jamie passes by. 



QUATRAIN. 

The world's a harp and each one 
breathes upon it — 
His son?- of sorrow or his song ol 
mirth — 
And some play with a master's vivid 
touch — 
And some give naught but rude 
strains birth. 



A VISION. 

He mused upon the world's sad state, 
Its discontent, its joys so few, 
Where peace, white peace should 
dwell in lieu 

Of wars and strife and endless hate. 

"Unhappy world, what is thy need?" 
He upward turned his anxious eyes 
And prayed that in the star-strewn 
skies 

He might the question's answer read. 

Across the sapphire arch above. 
It was not "Fame" nor "Wealth" he 

saw; 
Spellbound he stood, and with rapt 
awe 
Beheld an angel hand trace "Love." 



?RIMA LUCE. 

Sobbing of violin 
Above the wind and rain; 
A spirit lurks within. 
Haunted with longings vain. 
Heart oppressed by fears, 
Eyes shadowed with tears, 
Oh, plaintive Auf Wiedersehn! 

Glimmering of amber — 

Upon a gray stone wall. 

Where the roses clamber 

Breathing incense o'er all. 

Pale stars declining. 

So fades repining. 

Hope is born anew with dawn. 



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